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We’re interrupted by the thunderous boom of my front door opening, followed by the clamoring that can only be Chuck and Jackson.
Chuck, given name Charles, was given his nickname so that we, amongst our friends, could differentiate between the two Charleses. He’s a big trust fund baby that comes from very old money in Manhattan. He moved to LA against his parents’ wishes to be free from the social demands of his very high-profile family name. He thrives off going against the grain and proving to his parents that his lifestyle is thriving despite their lack of moral support. Jackson was born and raised in LA, just like Charles. The two have been friends since grade school, and Jackson currently works as Charles’s assistant. He’s modest, as he lives an unassuming lifestyle in West Hollywood, but he’s patient. He’s always putting up with the chaos that comes with our hectic lifestyle, even though it’s not necessarily his style.
The four of us have formed a sort of posse, a comradery that can only develop through trust, loyalty, and a lot of partying. The former two being a scarcity in our way of life.
“Where the fuck have you guys been?” Chuck screeches, his voice echoing against the hard interior of my home. “Jacky here has got no game whatsoever. I need my boys to be my wingman. This guy’s a good-for-nothing pussy.”
“Those girls didn’t want anything to do with us. Why even try when they were so clearly repulsed by us?”
“They were repulsed byyou. The blonde one thought I was cute. She even gave me her Snapchat,” Chuck says proudly.
“Snapchat? What are you, twelve?”
Charles and I both chuckle. The bickering that continues between the two is ever so present, just like every other time the four of us are together. If it’s not about women… Well, actually, it’s always about women. For as long as I’ve known these guys, they argue about how to get women, who gets more women. Hell, they even argue about the women they don’t get.
“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” Chuck asks, rubbing his hands together, insinuating another night of debauchery.
“We have the premiere,” I answer, pointing between myself and Charles.
“Oh shit, I forgot about that,” Chuck answers.
Right on cue, my doorbell rings. The four of us look at each other, our conversation halting as we silently assign a person to answer the door.
Jackson sighs, volunteering. “I guess I’ll get it.”
As soon as the door opens, Levi pushes past it and storms into the foyer.
“Dammit, Rhy, I’ve been calling you all fucking week!” he blurts out. I stand as Levi stalks towards me. I tower over him, not in an attempt to intimidate him, but because our height differences give me no choice. While Levi’s stature may be subpar, he makes up for it with his spunk. His arrogance and assertiveness are what have made him one of the most sought-after talent agents in the industry, and he makes no apologies for it. With his iPhone permanently glued to his hand, he’s always about business. No room for formalities, just straight to the point.
I’ve been ignoring his calls since I landed back in LA. Knowing he wouldn’t want to waste any time deciding my next project, even sending a gofer to deliver a cardboard banker’s box full of scripts, I didn’t want to face him. Now it’s been over a week, and he’s driven all the way from his office in Central LA to confront me. I have no choice but to face him.
“Sorry, Levi. I’ve just been busy,” I explain. But he sees right through my lie.
He rolls his eyes and deadpans, “Come on, Rhylan. Look, I know you’ve been going through some shit. And I’m here for you, I really am. But we’ve got this premiere tonight, and I need you to be on your A game.”
“I know, I know,” I answer with my hands up, palms facing him in surrender.
“Then why the fuck have you been avoiding me? What’s going on?” he demands.
“Relax, man,” Chuck calls from his seated position on my couch. “Sit down, have a drink with us.”
Levi doesn’t answer Chuck. He just looks at me, annoyed and at the tail end of his patience.
Chuck stands and walks right up to Levi, leaning a hand on his shoulder. “You seem tense. Are you under a lot of pressure?” Chuck croons.
Levi looks at Chuck, his mouth opening and closing before looking back at me. “Why is he talking to me?”
Chuck smiles obnoxiously at Levi, completely unfazed. He’s used to Levi’s cold shoulder and limited patience. In fact, he takes pleasure in pushing Levi’s buttons and gets a kick out of making him peeve.
“Um, why don’t we talk in my office,” I suggest, suppressing the urge to smirk as Chuck clings closer to Levi.
I walk the narrow hallway towards my office to lead the way, passing by the wall that showcases multiple movie posters framed in glass and gold embossed borders with my face blown up into oversized proportions. Levi shakes Chuck off his shoulders and follows. Once we’re in private, I close the door behind me.
“Look, I just needed some time. That’s all,” I explain. Defeated, I collapse onto one of the matching armchairs facing my large desk with a sigh. My hand moves to my face to rub my temples with my thumb and middle finger in an attempt to release the built-up tension.
“Rhy, did you want me to go with you tonight? We can make an appearance and leave,” he suggests. He sits down on the opposite armchair and faces me, his elbows resting on his knees. His anger has subsided, and genuine concern is written all over his face.
“No, I’m fine. I just needed a couple of days to clear my head. I’ll be there. You have nothing to worry about.”
